The Wizard Complex
by Emilehh
Summary: Sherlock Holmes is a pure blood wizard, head of Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He meets John Watson, a muggle. Sherlock feels himself falling for him. Should he follow the pure blood teaching from his family and house, or should he follow his heart?
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

Sherlock sighed. It was the last lesson of term, and the pupils were about to flood in to his classroom at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He taught defence against the dark arts, a job often cited with bad luck. Sherlock called out. "Class, enter." The pupils filed in and took their seats. The lesson seemed to drag for everyone. Finally, it ended, and Sherlock gathered up his papers whilst his pupils ran from the classroom, whooping and cheering. In six weeks, he'd be teaching them all over again. Sherlock sighed. For now, at least, he had 6 weeks of undisturbed silence at his small home, to concentrate on his other passion- crime solving. "Muggles do have some awfully interesting trivia going on," he mused. After checking he hadn't left anything of note in his classroom, he locked up and retreated to his private rooms. After a small supper, he went to bed.

Sherlock work up bright and early the next morning, packed all of his clothes and belongings in his one, small case, and left for Hogsmeade station. The train journey was fairly uneventful, apart from excited students running up and down the length of the train. On the way back, Sherlock rang Lestrade. He worked at Scotland Yard police station, and was the officer Sherlock often helped out. It tended to only be in the school holidays, but if Lestrade desperately needed it, Sherlock would don his black suit, and apparate to London to assist him with a case in the dead of night. "Hello?" Sherlock said in a questioning voice. "Oh. Lestrade? Freak here for you." Donevan had answered the phone, and handed it straight to Lestrade. "Ah, hello Sherlock." "Good morning Lestrade." Sherlock used polite tones, desperate to be back in the game. "Anything urgent, or do I have time to go home first? My robes are a little... Conspicuous." Out of the seldom few people Sherlock knew outside of the Wizarding world, Lestrade was the only one who knew he was a wizard. "We've got nothing incredibly urgent at the moment, Sherlock. Pop down after you've got home and sorted yourself out." "Will do, thanks Lestrade." Sherlock then put the phone down. He could only take being polite for so long.

Sherlock pulled out his keys, and heard the familiar click as the key turned and unlocked his door. A necessary prop, in the muggle world, despite the fact he was rather efficient at non verbal spells and could of easily unlocked the door with a thought, he had to at least appear normal. Mrs Hudson greeted him at once. "Sherlock, dear!" she said warmly. "Mrs Hudson." A small smile played on Sherlock's lips as Mrs Hudson told him she had the tea ready for him for when he got home. Sherlock accepted the offer of tea, and sat and chatted with her for a while. Like the other muggles he knew, apart from Lestrade, of course, she thought he taught at a private muggle school out in the country. He finished his tea, and headed up to his flat.

Sherlock got out yet another key and opened the door to his flat. Everything was tidy, yet seemingly untouched. "Mrs Hudson has tidied," he thought to himself. He went straight to his desk, and turned his computer on. He didn't bother taking such gadgets to Hogwarts, as they wouldn't work anyway. For a wizard, Sherlock was quite savvy on the latest gadgets in the muggle world, and generally kept up to date. It was frustrating for Sherlock not to be able to use magic to assist him with his cases, but in some ways he relished it. He was able to gain an extra skill, by knowing a lot about science. Also, his magic did help, when there were those cases committed by criminal wizards.

When he was done on his computer, Sherlock went into his bedroom, changed from his long, black robes and hung them up in his wardrobe for the next six weeks, and then left his flat, ordered a taxi and left for Scotland Yard.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter two

**Hello, everyone! Thanks for my review and favourites ect! You're all lovely. **

Sherlock arrived at Scotland Yard, reached inside his blazer and paid for the taxi with the muggle money he had recently withdrawn, checked his wand was well stowed inside his jacket and entered the police station. "Ah, Sherlock. Welcome back!" said Lestrade warmly. "Lestrade." Sherlock said in his usual tone. "Sherlock, just come in, there's been a murder!" "Where?" "Other side of town, come on." They went down to the car park, and Donaven drove them to the location- which was a small café. The café next to 221B. When they entered, the café owner was sat looking very shocked, and there was a short-ish, blonde man with a stick sat next to him. When he saw them, he stood up. He held out his hand. "Doctor John Watson. I was in here when it happened. I did try to help him, but he died, I didn't have the equipment. "Okay, Doctor Watson? Can I ask you to step over here so my college can question you on what you saw?" "Of course, of course." "Donevan? Question Dr Watson please." Lestrade walked over to the café owner. "I'll question this guy. You take a look." Sherlock nodded once, and moved over to the body. It didn't take long for Sherlock to deduce that from the angle he had been shot, the murderer had shot him from the door, with their left hand and then ran. "Lestrade? You are looking for a man, he's left handed and he's about 5'8. He's probably not well dressed, but he will be in a hurry. He's probably not too far from here, try the local pubs."

Sherlock exited, and went next door up to his flat. Sherlock fumbled in his pocket for his keys- something he never normally did, thrust them in the lock and threw himself on the sofa. He didn't understand what was happening to him. From the second he had seen Doctor John Watson, he had felt this odd... Urge. He could feel something pressing upwards in his trousers. He didn't understand. "This is... Wrong." he murmured aloud. "I don't... WANT THIS!" Sherlock became enraged. Why should anyone have the right to easily, so easily change his views on... On sex? He had deleted anything to do with _that _aspect of life a long time ago. He didn't remember ever feeling an urge like this for another human being. He had never felt anything for another human being as long as he could remember. He of course loved his mother as a child, and sometimes Mycroft... But not someone who wasn't his _family!_ When he became a consulting detective, he had sworn to himself he wouldn't allow himself to become bothered by such trifles such as love and sex. However now it seemed one man had the power to do just that.

Sherlock was desperate. He was ready to try anything to get John off his mind. He went on his computer and wrote another article for his website. He watched trash TV. But as soon as he became bored again, which didn't take very long, John was there, ready and waiting, to grip him in a world of mindless fantasy. He didn't even understand where the fuel for these even came from- he had been out of touch with his sexual being for so long now. Sherlock wasn't so out of the loop that he didn't know he _could_ pleasure himself, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to. He didn't want to admit to himself that John had that power over him. The power to turn him into a mindless, quivering wreck of a man desperate for... For what? Sexual satisfaction, he supposed. Sherlock wanted to see John again in a way, to see if he could see him again and be able to control himself. Sherlock knew what he had to do. He apperated to Scotland yard, and broke in easily using magic. "The police keep records on everyone they question, so his address must be here." he thought to himself. He summoned the file on John Watson, and found the address. He duplicated the sheet and stole away back to his flat. Sherlock was actually tired for once, so he headed for bed, deciding to do more about his John issue the next day.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter three

**Again, thanks for my reviews and favourites! (And sorry for taking so long to update- I get lazy!)**

As soon as Sherlock climbed into bed, an idea struck him. It would possibly get him into trouble if he wasn't careful... But it would be worth it. He got out of bed, and pulled on some clothes, his robes this time. He checked John's address, and apperated to the street. He found John's house, placed his hand on the gate and took a deep, steadying breath (something he'd never had to do before) and walked up to the front door. Of course, he wasn't going to alert John to his presence. "Alohamora." he whispered, and he entered the house. Thankfully, John didn't have any alarms, so he got in pretty safely. He cast another spell to muffle his footsteps, and then another to make himself invisible. He sneaked into John's room, and almost tripped over a small, furry creature. Sherlock realised it was a cat. "Damn. That makes this a whole lot harder." He thought- he was intending to take a hair of John's, but now it could very easily be cat hair, and he had heard the stories of when a girl who was a few years younger than him from when he had been at school had turned herself into a cat. "There's only one thing for it." He walked over to John's bed, and plucked a single hair from his head. He mumbled a bit in his sleep, but didn't notice. Sherlock stole one last fleeting glance at John, and then hurried out of the house. He stepped outside and apparated back home.

Sherlock entered the kitchen. He had already brought some potions back from Hogwarts for when he needed them for his crime solving, but now he wanted one in particular. Ployjuice Potion. He added John's hair to the potion and it bubbled and frothed into a strange yellowish colour. Sherlock took a look at the potion and shuddered slightly. He pinched his nose, and downed the potion. Straight away, he began to shrink. His robes fell off him, and he was stood there, naked. He looked in the mirror. It was done. He was John. He studied himself, and an odd sort of desire came over him. He found the body he saw attractive, but he knew it was strange because it was still _him, _even if it didn't look like him. Sherlock sat down. He had only taken enough potion for about ten minutes transformation. He slowly grew, his hair became black and curly, and he became skinny again. He sighed. He didn't feel as if he had gained anything. He just felt... More attracted to John. "But I can't be." he muttered. "He's a muggle. It's wrong. I have always been taught that I _must_ marry a pure blood wizard or witch. Whatever would Mummy say if she knew of this... This lusting? What would Mycroft say?" Sherlock grimaced at the thought, then realized he didn't care what his elder brother thought. His brother, with his pompous high place in the Ministry of Magic, always had an opinion on everything Sherlock did, espicially his crime solving in the muggle world.

Sherlock sighed. He knew where John lived, but what was the use? He might have a girl or boyfriend for all Sherlock knew. He might not even want to be friends- after all, what was Sherlock to John? Nothing. They hadn't even spoken. "Even so," Sherlock thought, "I want to be friends with him, at least. Sherlock sighed. "I need a case. I'll phone Lestrade!" He picked up his mobile phone. "Ah. Three in the morning. Best not. Most people don't tend to like being woken up at this time of night. I'll have to work on the other case I have." Sherlock had unpacked his science kit as soon as he had returned home, much to Mrs Hudson's disgruntlement. Sherlock smiled. He had a distraction- for now.

**Seriously guys, I mean it. THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR EVERYTHING I AM SO SHOCKED PEOPLE ACTUALLY LIKE MY WRITINGS. Cheers :33333**


	4. Chapter 4

**Erm, thank you all so much for reading this :D I know I haven't updated in a while but with college and my laziness... Yeah. But thanks!**

Sadly, the case didn't actually prove long enough to be an adequate distraction for Sherlock. He was an intelligent man, and most cases didn't take him long to solve. He sighed. "What can I do with myself?" He looked at the clock. 5:30 AM. He sighed again. There was_ nothing _to do. Nothing to do that distracted him long enough from John, anyway. Sherlock rarely slept, even when teaching at Hogwarts. He (and his ego) felt there was not enough hours in the day for him to show off his brilliance. However, he did actually go to bed, for the first time that week.

Sherlock awoke abruptly from a rather interesting dream involving John. He blinked a few times and realized what had actually woken him up- his phone was ringing. He checked it, and it was Lestrade. "Sherlock." He answered. "Sherlock, can you come in on a case?" "Well yes, of course." "Great! We need you at St Barts." "I'll be there shortly." With that, Sherlock jumped out of bed, and got dressed. He resented the muggle clothes he had to wear sometimes, because if there was anything about Sherlock, he enjoyed being himself. However, he enjoyed his time in the muggle world because it gave him an opportunity to indulge in other interests.

Sherlock arrived at the hospital, and he stepped into reception. Lestrade was there waiting. "Ah, Sherlock. You were quick." "I do not take long to ready myself, Lestrade." "So we're going up to the morgue, because there's a death I think was caused by... Well. I'll tell you in a minute." They stepped into the lift, and once they were alone, Lestrade explained. "I think it was one of your lot. Magic." "Does this individual have any marks on him at all?" Sherlock inquired. "Not a single one." Lestrade replied. "You might even know him." "Do I detect a slight hint of sarcasm, Lestrade?" Sherlock asked. "I thought you were just so... Out of touch with us because you're so different, and might know more people in your own world, I suppose." Sherlock smiled. Lestrade was mistaken. He spoke to even less people in the magical world than he did in the muggle world.

They stepped into the morgue, where the lab assistant, Molly Hooper, had the body out. Sherlock marched over straight away, and began examining it. "I doubt you'll find anything. I've been over it and so has Molly here, and we're both trained in the... Art of it." The man laughed to himself. Sherlock continued his work without looking up. When he concluded his examination of the body, he rose his head and confirmed to Lestrade what he thought was true, and this man had indeed been killed by magic. Lestrade groaned. "Great. That means liaising with your brother." "Yes, do have fun, won't you?" Sherlock said with a sarcastic air. "Yeah, thanks, Sherlock." Lestrade grumbled, and he went off to go and make some phone calls.

Just as Sherlock went to leave, somebody called him back. "Hey, Sherlock!" He turned around, suppressing a small sigh. It was Mike Stamford. "Are you still looking for a flatmate?" Sherlock considered this a moment, and supposed that yes, he was. "I suppose so. Why? I highly doubt you've found somebody suitable." Sherlock laughed haughtily. "Well, come and meet a friend of mine. John Watson." Sherlock was half way through opening his mouth to tell Mike that he needed to leave when he suddenly found himself stood there, mouth agape, a very un-Sherlock like thing to do. "Well, don't just stand there, come on then!" Sherlock followed Mike like a lamb. Sherlock found him instantly, into the lab. John Hamish Watson stood with his back to Sherlock and Mike, talking animatedly to Molly. "John! About that flatshare. This may well be your lucky day!" John turned around. "Oh, hello Mike. You've found somebody that also needs a flat share, then?" "This is Sherlock Holmes, John. He's been looking for a person to share his flat with for a while now, and you are also looking for a flat share. Perfect! Well, I'll leave you two to talk, and see if it would be a viable option for you both." Mike left the lab.


End file.
